


you'll never know what a fool I've been

by seventhstar



Series: if you wanna i might 'verse [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dorks in Love, Insecurity, M/M, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Supportive Katsuki Yuuri, there's only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 15:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: “Do good luck kisses count as supporting me?”“Sorry, I only kiss gold.”“Yuuri!”“I’m kidding.”





	you'll never know what a fool I've been

**Author's Note:**

> happy anniversary, yoi. i love you.
> 
> thanks to meg for the beta

There’s only one bed in the hotel room.

Yuuri doesn’t know why this surprises him. He saw the room earlier, and paid no attention to the number of beds then. Viktor was supposed to be staying here alone, so it makes sense he wouldn’t book a room with multiple beds, anyway. And Yuuri and Viktor are engaged. It’s totally reasonable for Viktor to assume Yuuri wants to sleep with him.

It’s not like Yuuri wants to spend the night on a hotel room couch, but…

Viktor emerges from the bathroom in his pajamas, his travel clothes bundled in his arms. Yuuri watches him fold them and put them away, and wonders if it would be weird if he just laid down on the couch without saying anything.

“Well?”

“What?”

Viktor looks confused. While Yuuri has been thinking, he’s gotten under the covers. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

Yuuri can’t bring himself to say no. It doesn’t matter how many good reasons Yuuri has for wanting to sleep apart tonight. There’s no way Viktor won’t take a refusal personally.

He gets into bed. It’s king-sized, and at first he tries to stay on his side, out of Viktor’s way. Viktor whines, though, and tugs at him until Yuuri relents. They end up in the middle of the bed, Viktor spooned over him from behind. His arms are warm around Yuuri’s waist; his breath tickles.

They flew in from Russia earlier. Yuuri should be exhausted, but he can’t sleep, and he can’t do anything about it, because if Viktor notices, he’ll feel compelled to intervene.

“Yuuri?”

“Mm?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“You’ve hardly said two words to me since we left St. Petersburg,” Viktor says. “And I’m the one who’s competing, so I don’t understand why...are you worried about losing practice time?”

Yuuri says nothing.

“I did tell you to stay behind.”

“I wanted to come.”

“You don’t act like it.”

His grip on Yuuri tightens a little. Inwardly, Yuuri is beating himself up for his idiocy; all this effort and he’s somehow managed to make Viktor mad anyway. He’s damned if he speaks and damned if he doesn’t. Viktor is competing in the European Championships tomorrow. How can he have the time and energy to expend on Yuuri’s stupid feelings?

But Viktor had time to get Yuuri settled in St. Petersburg even while scrambling to make a comeback, and he had time for Yuuri during Nationals, too, even though he was busy defending his title thousands of miles away. When they got on the plane last night and a baby started crying in the seat behind them, Viktor willingly surrendered _his_ noise-canceling headphones because he noticed _Yuuri_ had a headache.

“I’m fine.”

“If I’ve done something wrong, please tell me—”

“It’s not—look, just focus on skating tomorrow—”

“But I—”

“You should be sleeping,” Yuuri says desperately. _This_ is why he wanted the couch.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, exasperated, in a tone of voice Yuuri knows he stole from Yakov. “As your coach, I should have made you stay behind. But now I insist that you let me fix this.”

“You can’t,” Yuuri says bluntly. “And don’t say ‘as your coach’, how many times have you listened to Yakov?”

“I listen to him when it’s important.”

“And I listen to you...when it’s important.”

“I don’t want you to be upset,” Viktor says. His mouth touches the back of Yuuri’s head.

“This is my first time,” Yuuri blurts out, undone by Viktor’s earnestness. “Supporting you in a competition. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Oh.”

He says it before he can lose his nerve.

“...I don’t want to distract you.”

“So you think I’ll lose?”

“No!” Yuuri shakes his head, or tries to; it’s hard when he’s lying down. He rolls over so that he and Viktor are nose to nose. “You’re at a disadvantage compared to the other skaters, because you’ve had less time to prepare and you took time off. Because of me, you’re already…” He trails off.

Viktor stares at him. He doesn’t look pleased. “You asked me to come back. Now you’re mad at me because I might not win?”

“I don’t care if you win! I just don’t want people to look down on you!”

“Who cares if they do?”

Viktor’s hand comes up to cup Yuuri’s face. Despite his harsh tone, his touch is tender. He pulls Yuuri closer until Yuuri gives in and puts his face against Viktor’s shoulder. Enclosed in the safety of Viktor’s warm arms, it’s hard to remember that he was thinking about sleeping on the couch earlier.

Yuuri carried Viktor’s bags for him. He helped him in and out of his jacket and his skates (Viktor blushed incredibly when Yuuri knelt down to lace him up.) He brought Viktor water at practice, and unpacked his things while he was in the shower, and curated his breakfast from the offerings at the hotel buffet.

He still feels like it’s nothing, though, compared to the way being held by Viktor makes him feel. Yuuri wonders; does he make Viktor as happy, when he holds him?

Is that enough, to make up for all the things Yuuri has done that Viktor didn’t deserve?

“Will you be disappointed,” Viktor asks, very quietly, “if I don’t win tomorrow?”

“Never.”

“Do good luck kisses count as supporting me?”

“Sorry, I only kiss gold.”

_“Yuuri!”_

“I’m kidding.”

Yuuri kisses Viktor’s neck, because it’s the part of him easiest to reach, and he doesn’t want to have to move. Viktor is rubbing his back soothingly. Yuuri’s pretty sure that he should be comforting Viktor, the night before the European Championships, with every male singles skater in Europe out for Viktor’s blood.

If it were Yuuri under that kind of pressure, he thinks he’d buckle.

 _Maybe that’s the problem,_ Yuuri thinks. _Viktor isn’t me. Maybe he doesn’t feel the pressure at all._

Viktor makes it look so easy, this business of being supportive. It’s not even like he’s that good at it. But he never gives up on Yuuri, and the effort is somehow more important than the result.

“How does it feel to be back?” Yuuri asks. It’s the first time he’s asked this question; better late than never.

“I’ve been competing for almost fifteen years,” Viktor says. Yuuri can hear the smile in his voice. “Nothing this year is really different—”

“Aren’t you scared of anything?”

“Bugs.”

Yuuri blinks. He shoves at Viktor until he can see his face. “Seriously? Bugs?”

“They have too many legs.”

“What if you see a bug on the ice while skating?”

“There are no bugs on the ice. It’s too cold.”

“They could be really small bugs.”

“I’m beginning to think you were lying about being supportive,” Viktor grumbles. He makes a disgusted face that looks remarkably like Lilia’s default expression.

(Yuuri doesn’t know how he feels about that—it’s a toss up between absolute terror and a very weird boner.)

“Okay, okay.” He lets Viktor smother him in his hold again. “Go to sleep.”

Viktor falls silent. They’re on the thirtieth floor; there’s no road noise, no sound from the adjacent rooms. Only their breathing can be heard—his breath, and Viktor’s breath, almost in sync, but not quite—and their heartbeats, both slowing. Yuuri has been held before, but not like this. This place, in Viktor’s arms, is his.

He wonders if Viktor dreams about him. He wonders if Viktor is wearing a shirt to bed because he noticed Yuuri was nervous. He wonders if Viktor will book one bed for them at Worlds, too, or if he’ll want separate beds when they’re both competing.

The mattress shifts underneath him.

“I don’t understand,” Viktor says. “If you were worried about being a distraction, why did you insist on coming?”

“I wanted to see you skate.”

“You’ve seen me skate.”

“It’s not the same.” Yuuri can feel his face burning, and he’s glad Viktor can’t see it. “I wanted to come as your _fiance_ , not as your competitor.”

“...wow.” Viktor squeezes Yuuri so hard his ribs practically creak. “Say that again.”

“What, fiance?”

“Yes.”

“Fiance,” Yuuri says in his best (worst) French accent, and Viktor honest to god squeals in delight, and just like that, Yuuri has to smile.

“I suppose I shouldn’t get used to it,” Viktor muses. “After Worlds, it’ll be husband, won’t it?”

“How about I _win_ the medal first,” Yuuri says dryly. “You’re going to be there, too.”

Viktor hums. He pets Yuuri’s head. “Not enough time,” he says. “I’ll be happy just to be on the podium, I think. I didn’t come back because I wanted more gold medals.”

“Then why…?”

“I wanted to compete against you,” Viktor says. “Nothing this year is really different. But when I’m with you, even all the old things seem new again.”

_I thought I was the only one who felt that way._

And then it hits him, like the quad flip at he did at the Cup of China. Inspiration strikes. He knows exactly what to say to motivate Viktor.

“Hey.”

“Mm?”

“If you win gold tomorrow, I’ll kiss your medal.”

“...only my medal?”

Yuuri smiles into Viktor’s chest. “Win and find out.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> give me that sweet comment goodness, y'all


End file.
